18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Charlie Gibson
T hree things seem universal to all small towns: the businesses are all referred to by what they were at the inception, what you get labeled as is your identity forever, and everyone talks about their neighbors. I don’t hate my hometown; it suffers the same maladies all small towns do. Gibson Family Funpark will forever be just that to the locals even if Skip has Flicks n’ Fun for twenty years, I’m going to be thought of as an entitled rich kid for the rest of time, and the whispers about the drownings won’t ever end.
Maybe they shouldn’t, until the authorities get to the bottom of them.
After weeks of unreturned messages, Detective Hemminger asked Mitch and I to speak with her. Finally. Before she could put me off any longer, I told her we’d drive to her office now. “Are you alright?” I ask Mitchell who has been fidgeting and silent on our drive.
He sighs. “Why do we have to do this?”
When mom and dad left, he seemed better. Able to function without prodding. Now he’s sliding backwards. His behavior is off. “It’s not a big deal. She wants to get statements again. This is good. Just tell her what you can remember.”
I’ve given up on trying to make him move. Cal’s right, he wants to stay in Lake Hollow. The roots of our family give him a sense of stability, where the history feels more like a noose around my neck.
Pulling to a stop in the parking lot at the Sheriff’s office, I put my hand on his shoulder. “You can talk to me. You know that right?”
His eyes are weary when he looks at me. “Uh huh, umm… Charlie?”
“Yeah, what is it?”
He opens his mouth but closes it with a shake of his head. “I... uh,” For the life of me, I don’t get what’s going on in his head. “It’s nothing.” Another shake of his head. “I love you.”
Why are alarm bells ringing in my head?
Suddenly, I’m worried about what he is keeping to himself.
The detective doesn’t make us sit long, before she ushers us one at a time into her spare-looking office. I tell Mitch to go first.
Texts pile up while I wander the hallway of the Sheriff’s office. Remembering dad vomiting outside a side door after identifying Katie’s body. The amount of bad memories I shove to the back of my mind on a daily basis is outstanding.
Mom’s tortured screaming and crying.
Dad’s angry rants, followed by staring at the lake in stunned silence.
Mitchell sleeping at Katie’s door, wrapped in her favorite blanket.
Me… wanting to run away. Leaving never to return.
But here I am.
Glancing at my texts, most of them are playlist updates, memes from Cal, and one single one from Remi. Since she doesn’t have her phone most of the time I can’t open it fast enough.
Bird-Understander by Craig Arnold -look it up. That is all. Oh I’m not going to deliver back something lighthearted or trivial. Meaningless, when she’s given me a gift.
Lost for words, love. I feel seen. I see you, too. My heart is yours.
Detective Hemminger escorts Mitch out of her office, his eyes red, cheeks wet. “Charlie?” She holds her door open for me.
I notice right away that her desk is a mess of papers, files, and knickknacks. It sets my nerves on edge, wanting to straighten it all. Shouldn’t she be more organized?
“I was telling your brother that I know your parents well. We grew up together. Bonnie, Carlotta, and I played basketball together in high school. Small world, right?” She chuckles as she pulls her glasses from on top of her head down, to look at a tablet she types on.
“You knew Daniel then?”
She gives me a sad smile. “I did.”
My parents never mentioned a connection to the detective when Katie went missing. But my memories are fuzzy at best surrounding the panic when she couldn’t be found that Sunday morning before church.
“I really appreciate you stopping in. Like I’d said on the phone, we’ve reopened an investigation into one of the drownings from six years ag-”
I cut her off, “It’s about time. I’ve been saying all along that Katie never would’ve been on that dock or in the lake.”
Either irritated that I interrupted her, or surprised I’m jumping right to it, she pulls her chin in, scooting back in her chair. “There may have been a misunderstanding, Charlie. We’ve reopened the investigation into Susanna Ross’ death. Do you remember her?”
Wait. What? The whole town talks about what happened to Katie. Her life was taken from her.
Shaking my head, I answer Hemminger, “That doesn’t make sense. This isn’t about Katie?”
The detective taps her stylus for the tablet on the desk, before laying it on a messy pile. I wait for it to roll right off. Seriously, how does she get any work done like this? “Okay, let’s back up. Do you remember Susanna?”
Barely. She was a new tourist that summer. Her face a blur, she had a massive crush on Cal. Showing up wherever he’d be.
“Yes. She stayed at The Bends with her family.”
She nods to herself, looking back at her tablet before leveling a look at me. “Do you remember the Saturday night that Sara Truitt passed away?”
Unfortunately. Some things don’t fade with time. “Yeah. I’d been at the Funpark… it was Gibson’s Family Funpark back then. The Drive-In movie was over around ten that night. Then a couple of the other employees, and I snuck some people in. We were messing around on the bumper boats until midnight or around that time.”
A chill passes through me thinking that better choices could have changed everything that night.
“Mmhm. Do you remember the last time you had seen your sister that night? Katie?”
What does she have to do with this?
“Uh, she had a piano recital that evening, but I was working. I think she was in bed when I got home. Sorry, that’s a… that’s a weird question.”
But Detective Hemminger doesn’t answer me. She types away while I grow increasingly upset. “Katie doesn’t have anything to do with Sara’s drowning.” My faith in her ability to do her job effectively is further dashed. My twelve-year-old little sister didn’t kill Sara Truitt. Now I want to interrogate Mitch, ask him why the detective is questioning me about Katie.
“I only have a couple more questions, Charlie.” Is she deaf? I want to shout at her. She’s got this all wrong. “Did you know Tera Hersch? she drowned the summer before your sister.”
Okay, maybe she is on the right track.
“Yes.” I nod sitting forward in my seat. “Her family spent their summer vacations in Lake Hollow. She and Katie were friends. She drowned almost a year before Sara… before.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Before my sister.”
Hemminger shifts in her chair, setting down her tablet, while moving aside a coffee cup. “One last question, that summer before there were two drownings; Tera and Jeremy Eiler… he worked at Gibson Funpark?”
He was older than me, but I certainly recall him. “Yeah, he’d worked a couple of summers for my parents. He even had a lifeguard certificate. I remember everyone talking about it because he was in the lake all the time. Skiing, swimming, and boating. Just like Sara, he hadn’t been drinking or anything.”
All the superstitious babble about the lake claiming people’s lives was the result of those drownings. They just didn’t make any sense.
The detective walks me out, stopping just before the lobby. “You asked if I knew Daniel, and I did. Not well, but what I remember the most is how protective your dad was of him.”
I scan the lobby for Mitchell not seeing him. Lately, he’s been behaving so strangely, I don’t know what to expect from him.
“Charlie, you remind me of him.”
What? I lost my train of thought looking for my brother.
“Huh? Daniel?” I look at her, face full of sympathy.
“No. You remind me of your dad. Very protective of your siblings. Your brother cares about you a lot, too.” She may be trying to tell me something, but it crosses the professional boundaries. Plus, I’m not following.
I know my brother cares about me. The problem is that I can’t help him right now. He’s keeping something from me.
A police clerk tells me that Mitchell left. When I pull my phone from my pocket, I see that he’s texted to tell me Natalie picked him up.
Yeah, he’s letting a secret destroy him. How do I get through to him?